


To Dance the Night Away

by SkiaWolf



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Assassination Attempt(s), Based on a Vocaloid Song, Cinderella Elements, Fairy Tale Elements, Inspired by Music, M/M, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 09:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkiaWolf/pseuds/SkiaWolf
Summary: In order for justice to prevail over a corrupt kingdom, a boy in disguise is sent to a ball held by the palace with the task of assassinating its prince.





	To Dance the Night Away

**Author's Note:**

> I decided on writing a oneshot based off the Vocaloid song, Cendrillon! Well, with this length, it's more inspired. Vocaloid songs make such amazing inspirations, so I'll probably make this a series if I create a third oneshot with one of them!
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

The system of the world is quite simple. There are those who reign above everyone else, then the further you go down the hierarchy, the least amount of power and freedom you have. The strong survived and the weak died out. The concept is hardly difficult to grasp.

Only to keep these gears turning, unjust crimes were to be committed. In this world, the ones guilty of these crimes were the royal family themselves. Now his father was getting older, the one who was mostly in charge of this injustice was the prince himself.

Those who lived in the capital of the country were safer than the rest, but those living outside of it in more rural areas struggled on a day by day basis. They were often forced to sell most of their crops to the capital in order to receive money; without this money, essentials to survive, such as clean water and medicine, would slip out of their hands.

It wasn't long before those living in this struggle were forced to take matters into their own hands in order to survive. A guild calling themselves the Scattered Bones were contacted to assassinate the prince. They believed that murdering the prince would have the biggest impact of them all, for he was soon to be taking over the throne. Others disagreed with this action, saying that the prince was still young and was only influenced by the ones who had raised him. How could you expect him to know any better? Were his actions even from his control? But their protests were soon pushed to the side. After all the royal family had did to them, they thought it was fair justice that the prince was the sacrifice.

However, hope was beginning to be lost. Though the assassins drew near, the guards and prince himself were much too strong to take down. All that was managed was a knife plunging into the prince's arm as he protected himself, leaving a scar he used to show his survival.

Before the death of most of the members, however, there was one request they had made in case they had failed. That was to Lailah, a woman who had once lived in the capital before she moved away in order to help those in need. They asked this woman to send someone in their place if they failed. They said that different matters would have to be used. A chosen person must disguise themselves and get close to the prince, both emotionally and physically. The chance to do this would be a ball which was being held, open for a price to those who resided in Ladylake. As long as the person sent was able to sneak inside Ladylake, they'd have no problem attending.

“Are you sure you are fine to do this?” Lailah asked softly. Determined violet eyes looked at her, the boy they belonged to brushing pale hair out of the way of them.

“Absolutely.”

She smiled. “I know you will help us.” Those words were spoken confidently. This boy, Mikleo, had been one she had met very shortly after moving to his village. What she needed for this task was someone who could act coolly under pressure, who was calm and collected with confidence in their beliefs. She knew Mikleo was the person who possessed the greatest personality for it. Not only was his personality suitable for the task, his appearance was, too. Due to a small, slender build and feminine features, he would easily be able to disguise himself as female in order to, if everything when according to plan, dance with the prince.

She led the boy to her house and to her attic, picking up a large amount of material from her chair. “I'll help you with this. It is fairly complicated.”

He nodded, shrugging off his shirt and trousers as Lailah inspected the dress one more time. An amused smile grew on his face. “I'm fairly certain that an odd loose thread won't affect my task.”

“I'm a seamstress, of _course_ I want to make sure it's perfect! Right, first of all, this,” she stated, handing him a white laced petticoat. He shuffled it on over his underwear, tying it around its waist tightly. She smiled; his waistline was perfect for this. “And I'll help you get this on.”

She heaved up a large dress, the material seeming to be larger than Mikleo himself. Despite how serious this preparation was, they couldn't help but laugh as Lailah struggled to pull it over his head. He suggested that he stepped into it, but whilst panting slightly, Lailah explained that the waist measurement was a lot smaller than the hip measurement. Eventually it was thrown on, however, both breathless.

He turned to the mirror, eyes widening. The dress was his favourite colour of turquoise, which in a similar fashion to Lailah's preferred dress, hung down longer at the back and around his legs, only it stretched out a little further than hers. The shortness of the front left the white petticoat underneath on show, the colour of which matched an intricate design of flowers which adorned the bottom of the dress, around the waist, the bust and also two clear straps.

“There's this, too,” Lailah said whilst Mikleo still looked at his reflection in awe. She wrapped a transparent shawl around his shoulders and clipped it at the front with a gold gemstone in the shape of a rose. “Just to make it less obvious that you don't have breasts.”

Mikleo chuckled. “That helps. Lailah, this is magnificent.”

“We're not done yet!” she exclaimed. “Sit down.”

He did as he was instructed, watching as she grabbed a cosmetics bag from a chest of drawers.

“Now, you don't exactly _need_ this, but I think it'll help emphasise your femininity,” she explained, pulling over another chair to sit in front of him. She grabbed a tube of mascara and carefully applied a couple of coats to each eye, Mikleo managing to stay fixed to the spot despite the strange sensation. A larger brush then dusted faint pink on his cheeks before she applied a clear gloss to his lips.

“Perfect!” she smiled. Mikleo tried to get up to go over to the mirror, but she pushed him back down.

“Hey, I want to see!”

“Just a moment.” She grabbed the black hair tie pulling his hair up, apologising when he winced. The thick hair was set loose, falling down his back in loose curls. She grabbed a brush to settle it down after it had been tied, before clipping an object Mikleo didn't get the chance to see on the right side of his head. “And now...”

He raised an eyebrow when she picked up a pair of glass heeled slippers. “Oh come on, that's going too far. What am I, a princess in a fairytale?”

“We want you to _look_ like one,” Lailah replied, slipping the shoes onto each of his feet.

“How did you even afford all of this?”

“I have lots of materials left over from my work in Ladylake. The Scattered Bones also left me money in case I needed it. Spending expenses to remove the prince from position will benefit us in the long run, after all.” She began to wrap a white ribbon around his legs, tied at his thigh and ending at his ankle, where she clipped on matching roses to the one on his chest on each ankle. “You need to be apart from the crowd anyway, otherwise the prince won't look at you twice.”

“That's true. I just hope he doesn't have a foot fetish or something. Really, _glass slippers...”_

“I am fairly certain that the rest of your outfit is much more noticeable than your shoes,” she said, letting out a giggle. To finish with, she slipped on gloves going up his forearms, matching the flower detailing. “Go and see the finished result!”

He got to his feet, wobbling for a moment from the heels, but soon figured out that it was easy enough to walk on their small height. He couldn't help but gasp at his reflection – he hardly looked like a poor boy from an unknown village. In fact, he didn't look like a boy at all. His hand trailed to the clip Lailah had left in his loose hair, now knowing that it matched the one on his chest, before his eyes trailed down to his waist defined by the dress' design, the material flowing naturally from him and the perfectly tied ribbons over well-shaped legs.

“Lailah, this is incredible,” he said, turning slightly to look at the back of the dress. It swooped down low, revealing his shoulder blades. “I truly look like I'm from the capital. Your talent really doesn't have limits, does it?”

She smiled. “You're going to make me blush! One last thing...”

She placed a gold and turquoise mask over his eyes, clipping it under his fringe and front strands of hair. Her face then grew more serious as she walked back over to the chest of drawers, picking up a white garter in one hand, knife with a red and gold handle in the other.

“Keep these hidden,” she said, handing them to him, He nodded, lifting up the petticoat to strap the garter to his leg, running a finger across the sharp blade for a moment before attaching it to the garter. “And Mikleo, please come back safely.”

“I can't promise I will. I'm willing to die for this.”

She smiled to try and hide the pained expression written on her face. “I admire your bravery. The remaining members of the Scattered Bones will be meeting you right outside. Be careful.”

He pulled her into a hug, wondering if this was the last time he'd ever be able to do so.

 

* * *

 

 

To sneak into Ladylake was a task which caused Mikleo's heart to hammer inside his chest.

He shook hands with who he knew had been the leader of the Scattered Bones, Rose. She had a surprisingly bubbly and energetic attitude, much warmer than Mikleo would have expected. She and her partner quickly hid him inside the back of a horse-drawn carriage, crouched behind some of their stock. He thought this would be useless – after all, surely they wouldn't get through? But Rose was persistent, stating that no one in the world doubted the Sparrowfeathers.

And she was right. As Mikleo tensed inside the carriage, hearing the distant voices of people outside of it, he had expected the doors to be slammed open. He braced himself, not scared of death, but rather dying without being of use. But to his astonishment, there were only a few exchanged words before the horse carried on. Mikleo was sure that the beating of his heart was just as loud as the hooves he could hear against the concrete beneath the carriage.

The doors eventually opened, in what Mikleo guessed to be an alleyway. She beckoned him to hurry on out, which he managed to do so gracefully. He stood up straight, fixing his dress into place. Rose gave a whistle now she had the chance to look at him properly.

“Wow, someone's looking _good!”_ she beamed. “Just head down that way over there,” she pointed to a main street to her left, “and then keep heading forward. You can't miss the palace.”

“Are you sure it's fine with me just walking around like this?”

“Of course it is! Lots of people going there are walking around.” She glanced him up and down. “Although maybe not quite like this. You sure want to stand out, don't you?”

“That's what Lailah wanted me to do.”

“And right she is with that. If people start paying attention to you…” A grin appeared on her face. “The prince will notice you for sure. I wish I could go with you, but –”

“They will know who you are from you being in the Sparrowfeathers,” he finished for her. “I understand, don't worry.”

“You've got this, though,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Go save this kingdom.”

“No pressure or anything,” he laughed humourlessly. But despite his laughter, determination was soon flaring in his eyes. With one last nod at Rose, he made his way over to the main street, immediately greeted by excitable people.

“It starts in ten minutes!”

“I've seen _so_ many beautiful dresses… I wish I could go...”

“Hey, nothing beats _that_ one! Look at her!”

He realised that he was already starting to pick up quite a bit of attention. Normally, this much might have made him feel uncomfortable. But he wasn't himself in this moment in time. He had a job to do, and that's all that mattered. And so, he strode by them with an air of grace and confidence, head held high and not even taking in the people by him. He _did_ listen to the voices around him, though. Some were hushed whispers, others didn't bother to keep their voices down.

“She's _beautiful...”_

“Who do you think made that dress?”

“Glass slippers?! Must be fairly light if she can walk in those...”

“And that _hair!”_

The reaction to his hair _did_ bring a small momentary smile to his face, considering that was the one thing which was certainly his own. He was now stood by the steps to the palace, a long line of people awaiting to enter. Two men together turned upon the clicking of his shoes, both of their eyes widening.

“You're here _alone?”_ one of them said, a grin growing. “You don't have to be alone with _me_ here...”

“Excuse me, but I saw her first –”

“Sorry, were you speaking?” Mikleo drawled in a bored voice. Both men seemed a bit taken aback by the response. The second seemed to immediately lose confidence, but the first only seemed more provoked.

“I was. It seems such a _shame_ that a pretty girl like you is here alone without a date. I don't have one either, so how about we go together? Maybe even somewhere _private...”_

Mikleo slapped away a hand which tried to rest on his waist – apparently stronger than the man expected, for he hissed in pain. “It's no wonder that _you're_ alone,” Mikleo said with narrowed eyes. He decided that now would be the best time to get his task properly started. “I'll have you know that I only have eyes for one person tonight. That's the prince.”

“Setting your goals high, eh?” the man questioned, raising an eyebrow. “And you think that's possible?”

“Much more possible than you getting anything from me.” Mikleo's eyes spotted a guard nearby, who was scanning the queue. “Excuse me? Guard?”

The man walked over, giving Mikleo a small bow. He did his best not to look surprised over the gesture. He was beginning to learn just how much appearances and wealth mattered. “Yes, my lady?”

“This man attempted to touch me and was making rather rude implications,” Mikleo explained. “Maybe keep an eye on him?”

The guard's eyes narrowed. “To the back of the line. Try anything there and you're _not_ getting in.”

“ _What?!_ She's lying!”

His friend tugged on his arm, however. “Come on, let's just go.” He pulled the protesting man away, mumbling an apology to Mikleo as he left.

“Sorry about that, miss,” said the guard, bowing again. “We do not accept such inappropriate behaviour."

“It's all right, thank you for dealing with it.”

He watched as the guard walked away. He was amused by being able to annoy the man initially, but then the guard's helpful behaviour made him realise just how much those here in the capital were treated better. Considering the villages barely had the same rights as others, they certainly wouldn't care about the mistreating of women.

Before long, he had paid the entry fee Lailah had given him the money for and entered the palace, so impressed by the magnificence of its architecture that he almost missed out on hearing the directions to the ballroom. Not only did he naturally never find himself near buildings this impressive, he had also always had an interest in architecture. However, he tried to not let this show too much on his face. Whilst being impressed was normal for those around him, he suspected that being in utter awe wouldn't exactly suit a resident of this city, who would be used to this kind of sight.

The ballroom was an incredible size, certainly large enough for those who had paid to enter. Even with food piled on tables lined against walls, there was a lot of room for people to dance together. Mikleo smiled at the pleasant sound of the quartet playing at the north wall of the room, as his eyes drifted to the food. People were helping themselves, and he thought he might as well do the same as he picked up a strawberry shortcake. If he was going to die here, he might as well have enjoyed himself a little beforehand.

The food was heavenly, the quality greater than back at home. Whilst skills were the most important thing, the ingredients they had only got them so far.

“Lovely, isn't it, miss?” a man's voice said from next to him, startling him slightly, almost enough for him to question the word 'miss'. But he was quick to stop himself and regain his composure, smiling and nodding at the butler.

“Yes, very much so.”

“Care for a drink?” he asked, holding a tray of glasses in front of him, each filled with champagne. Mikleo hesitated before taking one, deciding he might as well look the part.

“Thank you,” he said, taking a sip. He had to stop himself from spluttering it out.

“This is one of the finest champagnes we have in the palace.”

“I can tell,” he responded, glad that his face hadn't appeared disgusted. He held in a sigh of relief once the butler left, though was a little unsure of what to do with the champagne. He considered pouring it into one of the plants, but someone was likely to see him. For now, he simply swirled it in his glass, hoping it made him look sophisticated. He was certainly receiving both approving and jealous looks, so he must have been doing _something_ right.

“There's the prince!” a sudden girl called, a collective gasp and chatter following her words. Mikleo took the opportunity to toss the champagne into a plant next to him and place the empty glass besides some others, before staying where he was. He thought the prince might have been less interested in him if he simply stood in the crowd with everyone else.

Although he _did_ wish he was a little bit taller so he could look past the gathering crowd to see what the prince looked like. He could at least hear people's cries to him.

“May you dance with me, Prince?”

“Don't be silly, you can't just ask the prince to _dance_ with you!”

There was a laugh, one which surprised Mikleo. He hadn't expected the prince's laughter to sound so innocent. “If I had time, I'd dance with everyone!”

Whilst there was a collective sigh from people around him, Mikleo could only be stunned. The voice sounded just as innocent, too. Cheerful, energetic – was that really the voice of the man he had to kill?

He mentally shook his head. This was no time to be fooled by a voice. Actions spoke louder than words did, and this prince had certainly had his fair share of actions. Just because he sounded like a good person, it definitely didn't mean he _was_ one.

“Maybe I'll pick _someone_ , though.” Mikleo had to stop himself from rolling his eyes as the girls sighed again. Honestly, they were falling for _that_ trick? The guy could probably start reciting bad poetry and they'd be grovelling at his feet.

Still, if the prince really was going to pick someone, it had to be Mikleo. The image of the blade against his leg flashed in his mind.

What was it like to kill someone? Would he feel guilt, or not do so because he was simply doing what had to be done? He had no idea. He hadn't actually thought about how he'd have blood on his hands tonight.

“You look bored,” said a voice, Mikleo too distracted by his thoughts to pay attention to how it sounded.

“Naturally, this _is_ rather dull.”

There was a laugh. “Wow, you sure have confidence to say that to the prince, of all people.”

Mikleo shot his head around, gaze landing on a pair of bright green eyes. It wasn't just the voice which Mikleo wouldn't have imagined the prince he had been told of to have. His appearance wasn't fitting, either. His brown hair was messy and casual, his smile large. He was also a little smaller than Mikleo had pictured, though still a few inches taller than himself.

“Prince Sorey,” he then greeted, holding up one of Mikleo's gloved hands to place a kiss onto it. There was yet another collective gasp then – it was only in that moment that Mikleo realised they were being watched by all of the other guests. “And your name?”

Unguarded, Mikleo almost blurted it out before he stopped himself. “I thought this was a masquerade ball,” he responded instead. “Why should I give you my name?”

He thought this might have been risky, but the grin on the prince's face only grew. “You're definitely pretty confident. I like that!” Letting go of Mikleo's hand, Sorey turned to the crowd, waving his hand in the air. “Go on, make the most of it! I'm not the only sight here.”

The crowd reluctantly backed away over his obvious implication to give him space. He then turned around to grab one of the cakes Mikleo had eaten. “Honestly, my favourite part about these balls is the food.”

Mikleo laughed softly, before cursing at himself mentally over laughing genuinely. Faking friendliness with the prince was fine, but he'd rather not get real emotions caught up in this. “Not one for dancing?”

“I wouldn't say I _hate_ it. It's just boring.” Sorey ate the cake before leaning back against the table with his hands leaning on it, ignoring three giggling girls a little further down. “It's always the same every time.”

“How so?”

“The same kind of music, the same ordinary people. It never changes.” Sorey then turned to Mikleo, giving him a wink. “Except for you. I've never seen someone like you before.”

He mentally thanked Lailah for this idea. It had worked perfectly, even better than he had expected.

“I don't like to fit in with the ordinary,” Mikleo responded simply.

“I can tell,” Sorey grinned, not trying to hide the fact that his gaze was scanning Mikleo up and down. “I'm surprised I've never seen you around Ladylake.”

A moment of panic fluttered in his chest, but he maintained a calm composure. “I keep to myself, mostly. Honestly, this hair grabs _so_ much attention that I just wear a wig most of the time. It's easier.”

“I can see why.” Mikleo didn't shuffle away or protest over Sorey reaching over to twirl a curl between his fingers. “It's really quite incredible. Although I can imagine you wearing it short, too.”

Sorey backed away then, Mikleo noticing himself breathing out softly in relief. “I used to have it fairly short. It grows pretty quickly.”

“I see.” Sorey was then inspecting Mikleo's eyes, and that was the one, intrusive thing he could feel himself lose his calmness over. Sorey seemed to notice his sudden awkwardness, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Your eyes are unique, too. I've never seen a colour like that before. They're like amethysts.”

“My mother's eyes,” Mikleo said, glad he could at least speak with Sorey's eyes burning through him. He was determined to not break the stare first, grateful that he won when Sorey finally looked away.

“I wonder how many things I have to compliment you before you simply say thank you,” he said with a chuckle.

Mikleo smiled with amusement. “I'm not won over by a few words.”

“I'm beginning to realise that. Still...” Sorey ignored yet more squeals and giggles from a few onlookers when he shuffled closer, arm which was resting on the table next to them sliding down past Mikleo's side, just brushing him gently. Even with less space between them, Mikleo was perfectly fine. But that stopped when Sorey leaned forward slightly, his left hand brushing a few strands of hair away from Mikleo's cheek slowly. He swallowed, cursing himself when he could feel heat rising to his face. “I knew it. Cocky, but still able to get flustered.” He smiled playfully. “That's adorable.”

Mikleo huffed, turning and pushing Sorey's hand away in the process. “Others are going to question this. See, they're already staring.”

“I don't care about them. They're only here because it puts money in our pockets – some of which goes back, obviously.”

There it was. The prince didn't care about finding romance at a ball, or to get closer with the citizens. This place cared little about such things.

“Not to find a bride or the like?” Mikleo questioned. “After all, you're supposed to be taking the throne soon.”

“God, no. I'm not going to marry at _eighteen_ _.”_ Sorey seemed angered by the thought, but it soon calmed as he grinned at Mikleo again, reaching a hand out to him. “But I _do_ want you to dance with me. Who knows, maybe it'd be less boring with someone as interesting as you.”

It wasn't the invitation itself which caused Mikleo to hesitate. Sorey's gaze was beginning to make him feel a little more nervous. However, Mikleo took his hand, a small smile on his face.

“I guess it _would_ make this evening less dull for me.”

Sorey's grin managed to grow, even though it wasn't particularly small in the first place. Both ignoring the continuous stares from the guests, Sorey guided him closer to the quartet. The others seemed to part naturally without even a word or look from Sorey. When Mikleo eventually inspected them properly, he could see a combination of many reactions; jealousy, adoration, though mostly surprise. Apparently, Sorey grabbing the hand of a guest to dance with them wasn't something he did often.

Mikleo's hand rested lightly on Sorey's shoulder lightly, barely taking in the feel of the other's hand on his waist, for his mind was wandering to how he had learned to do this from Lailah. Images of them dancing around together, laughing at the mistakes Mikleo made flashed through his mind. His heart sank, wondering if he would ever hear that laugh again.

If he was going to kill Sorey, it would likely be done in this room. And there was no way at all that he'd get away with it. He was beginning to realise that there was only one road for him, and whilst he had been prepared for that consequence, it was dawning on him more in this moment.

“For someone who is dancing with the prince, you do look pretty grim,” Sorey commented whilst their steps took them around the ballroom. “What's the matter?”

He cursed silently at himself for letting his emotions show through. “I might be moving away,” he lied smoothly. “So it just saddens me that this is the only time I'd be doing this.”

“Getting emotional over this? That's a win for me,” Sorey grinned. A thumb rubbed over Mikleo's hand. “Although I _am_ disappointed over that. After all,” Sorey said, Mikleo certain that he felt the hand on his waist grip slightly tighter, “you really are beautiful.”

Mikleo swallowed, grateful that his voice sounded normal when he spoke. “Glad to know that's all you care about.”

“You know it's not. I think you can tell that I'm growing fond of you.”

Mikleo had no response for those words, but Sorey didn't seem to mind the lack of a reply. Eventually, they were sat down on a couple of the chairs by the walls, eyes watching the others and meeting a few gazes in the process.

“So,” Sorey started, “when are you going to give me your name?”

“I'm not giving that to you yet.”

“Yet?” Sorey grinned, moving closer so that their shoulders lightly brushed against each other. “So you _will?”_ The voice then grew a little lower, but still had an air of cheerfulness to it. “Maybe you'd tell me it if we were somewhere alone.”

He let out bright laughter at Mikleo looking down at the hands on his lap from that comment. “D-Don't be ridiculous.”

“Someone's embarrassed,” Sorey sang. “Come on, I'm just teasing. Well...” Sorey glanced at the people in front of them. “Maybe I'm being _slightly_ serious.”

Mikleo hated himself for his quickened heart rate over that comment. He had been fully aware that seducing the prince might have ended up being the best way to get close enough to kill him. But this playful attitude, the bright voice and smile... He was slowly letting himself be seduced in return which was the exact opposite of what he had planned.

The chime of eleven o'clock rang in his ears, startling him slightly out of his thoughts. Sorey let out a small sigh.

“One hour. If you really are going away, then that's all the time we have left. Hardly anything, is it?”

Mikleo shook his head. Why was he disappointed to hear that his deadline was so soon? This had been going so smoothly, but now…

He froze when Sorey lifted his hand again to kiss it. The first time had been fine, it was merely just a greeting. But this was softer, more meaningful. As each second passed, Mikleo was detesting himself for feeling like this even more.

He was distracted when a woman walked over to Sorey, keeping her voice low.

“We received more gald over this than all previous balls,” she murmured.

“Brilliant, thank you for letting me know.”

“What will the gald be spent on?” Mikleo asked as the woman walked away, wondering if this was pushing it, but he received a reply.

“Weapons for the army, renovations for some parts of the palace – appearances are important, and we use this money for that.”

“Nothing for rural areas?” Mikleo ended up asking before he could stop himself.

“That's not needed. No one pays attention to those places. As long as they don't starve, it's fine.”

Mikleo gritted his teeth. 'Don't starve?' There were times they had done so already. There had been countless times when he sacrificed his own food to give to children, to pregnant women who had nowhere near enough nutrition.

“And they _don't_ starve?”

“Surely not?”

The questioning wasn't a joke, nor did it have a more sinister undertone – it was genuine curiosity, and Mikleo found himself beginning to panic, the words of protesters against this assassination running through his mind.

“ _What if the prince is merely being controlled by others? He's only young, perhaps he's oblivious to everything?”_

No, Mikleo had heard of the commands the prince had done. He was corrupted, that was the tales he had been told. He must have just been lying with those two words to make himself not sound as evil as he was made out to be.

“Besides, it's the capital who are the most important,” Sorey went on. “Imports and exports, where the main attractions of Hyland lie – it's the royal family's task to make the height of our importance known, even if that means others being stripped of their power. Others have to be sacrificed so others can strive. It's just the way the world works.”

Mikleo didn't know what to think, what to say. Sorey's words were dark, they were twisted, yet were they his own? Were they simply teachings which had been drilled into his brain, being forced to accept them without his own opinion?

What kind of person was Sorey?

“And what do _you_ think about that?”

The question took Sorey off guard, and for the first time this evening, he looked bewildered and unsure.

“Well, it's necessary. I have no choice but to agree with it.”

“But if you _did_ have a choice?”

There was silence for a few moments. “I've never known any different than the system we have now,” he said slowly. “So I guess I'd still choose for it to be this way.”

Apparently, Sorey was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He got up from his chair, reaching a hand out to Mikleo. “Come on, less of the serious talk. Let's make most of the time we have left.”

Mikleo nodded, reaching out his hand to Sorey and allowing himself to be pulled up to his feet. Never had he felt so unsure about himself, so uncertain about what to do next. His mind focused on the cool touch the blade resting against his thigh. Would that kill someone who was still innocent?

He had expected to flirt with the prince, to dance with him, to do anything possible to get close enough to strike. Yet the one thing he hadn't expected was to get emotionally involved in the process. He was utterly infatuated by those shining eyes.

Time was ticking away as their feet carried them around, eyes watching their every move, yet Mikleo was unable to do anything but continue dancing. The chime of midnight would strike before long, but his knife still remained untouched.

The music had changed to a slower song, their movements matching its pace. Mikleo's heart beat faster as Sorey brought him a little closer, head resting to the side of his own. He screamed at himself in his mind to just do it now, whilst their bodies were so close together –

But then Sorey spoke, mouth so close the breath caused Mikleo to shudder.

“Do you think that love at first sight exists?” he murmured, pulling away slightly so their eyes met. Mikleo hated how tender Sorey's were. “Or is that just a fairy tale?”

“What kind of question is that?” Mikleo muttered.

“It's one that I need to know the answer to.” Part of Mikleo wanted to pull away when Sorey lightly kissed the side of his head, as gentle as a breeze, but the other part craved for it.

They should have never picked him for this. No one else would have got caught up in this mess.

“Fifteen minutes until the ball ends,” Sorey said as his eyes drifted to the clock. Mikleo's gaze followed, panic rising in his chest. “How about we leave for now?”

Mikleo was unsure of what to answer with. Even if he would be throwing away his own life by murdering Sorey amongst all of these people, surely the bustle of the crowd would keep him more grounded than being alone with Sorey would? But then he realised that his ears didn't pick up their distant voices, his eyes didn't pick up their watchful gaze on their dance. Perhaps being away from this waltz across the ballroom floor would help him, allow him to break away from the fantasy of an endless night and back to the reality of what he had to do.

And so, he nodded. He received a smile before Sorey kept his grasp on Mikleo's hand, the crowd parting with shocked whispers as he pulled him away from the scene and out of the doors, ignoring the confusion. Their pace down the hallway was rather quick, desperate to get away from the noise of the ballroom and from anyone passing by. Before long, Mikleo was brought to a stop when Sorey's own walking halted in a silent corridor, dimly lit by torches hanging on the windows.

Sorey then turned to Mikleo, his voice quiet, yet still a startling contrast to the silence around them. “If I can't have your name, can I at least see your face?”

Mikleo barely hesitated to nod. If he was going to kill this man, he might as well see the face of the one who had killed him. Mikleo's hand was released so that both of Sorey's hands could reach for either side of the mask, lifting it off Mikleo's face gently. The smile he received was warm and welcoming, the eyes inspecting Mikleo's face etched with adoration.

“That's better,” Sorey said, discarding the mask to one side. “You're much more beautiful without it.”

Too entranced by Sorey's smile and words, Mikleo only noticed that his back was against the wall until Sorey leaned closer. A hand slowly reached for his chin, lifting up his face so their eyes locked on each other. Mikleo swallowed, knowing exactly what was going to happen yet still unable to prepare himself. Lips pressed against his own, his eyes growing wide, unable to close like Sorey's. Unsure of what to think, how to react, Mikleo's hands merely pressed on the wall behind him – apparently Sorey noticed this, for one of his wrists was lifted into Sorey's hand and pinned against the wall. For a moment, a sense of powerlessness washed over Mikleo, but he tried to calm himself. His eyes fluttered closed as he kissed back, deciding that it was now or never. He didn't fight against a tongue slipping into his mouth; his mind merely focused on his free hand steadily and carefully reaching for his thigh, certain that his movements were gentle enough to go unnoticed. Sorey's fierce kiss certainly hadn't calmed, neither of his hands loosening.

But then panic arose as Mikleo had reached his petticoat, for the hand which Sorey had been holding Mikleo's chin with suddenly drew back and grabbed onto Mikleo's free hand. Larger, the tips of his fingers glided over the skin of Mikleo's thigh, causing a shiver to run down his spine.

“You certainly had everyone fooled,” Sorey said lowly. “Everyone except _me.”_

Mikleo knew in that instant that he couldn't give in to this heightening of panic and fear. He lifted his knee into Sorey's stomach, the grip on him releasing along with a gasp of pain. Mikleo bashed his elbow on Sorey's upper back, causing him to fall onto his knees, hands pressed against the floor. In one swift movement, Mikleo swiped out the blade from the garter concealed under his petticoat and lunged for Sorey, certain that he'd make it –

But in the last moment, Sorey had grasped onto Mikleo's wrist, holding on tightly to stop him from edging any closer. The blade had just pierced the skin of Sorey's throat slightly, a bead of blood tricking down from it. Their movements stayed fixed like this for several moments, Mikleo's eyes burning with a conflicting combination of fear and determination, whilst Sorey's expression remained blank.

“So the Scattered Bones now send pretty boys to do their bidding for them.”

Mikleo's eyes widened, hand shaking as it tried to pull out of Sorey's strong hold. “How do you know?”

“Your eyes,” Sorey said simply, voice monotone. “Years ago, I had been in your village. You looked a lot different back then; your hair was much shorter, as was your height, and your features weren't as refined. But those eyes didn't change. No mask can cover that.”

It was so long ago that Mikleo could barely remember it. The encounter had only been brief, simply a few words as Mikleo handed over baked goods to one of Sorey's workers with him. But now Sorey had brought up the moment, in the distant part of his memory, Mikleo could remember the shine of emerald eyes.

“You were close, I will admit that.” Sorey rose to his feet, Mikleo wincing as he tightened his hold to pull the knife way from his neck, raising it up into the air. Mikleo tried to tug his wrist away, but his efforts were in vain. “It's quite impressive considering you're on your own. But you didn't win.”

“What now then?” Mikleo snarled, voice a lot more confident than he was feeling. “You're going to kill me, like you did to the rest of them?”

“No, I'm not.”

“Oh, torture then. Brilliant,” he said sarcastically. “Just what I expect from the prince.”

“I won't do such a thing.” Sorey's free arm wrapped around Mikleo's waist, knife still held in the air as he was pulled closer. “Am I really the only one who felt something tonight?”

“Yes,” Mikleo spat. “I'm here for one thing, and that's –”

“Yeah yeah, to kill me, I know,” Sorey responded casually. “But no matter what you think, I enjoyed spending this night with you. Why else do you think I didn't call the guards straight away, when I knew that you shouldn't be here?”

“You're lying. You're just trying to get my guards down.”

Sorey glanced between the knife in the air and Mikleo's spare hand now trying to pull his trapped wrist away. A smirk grew on Sorey's lips, one of his legs resting itself in between Mikleo's, the movement immediately causing Mikleo's struggles to stop. “I think you're already not doing a very good job of keeping them up, princess.”

Mikleo glared, casting a glance down at the leg between his own and the arm around his waist. “Let me go,” he ordered.

“How fierce.”

“Is it a common thing for you to tease those who try to kill you?”

“Well, you're certainly doing very well with that task, aren't you?”

Mikleo couldn't believe it. They were arguing as though this was a playful, innocent situation. Judging by Sorey's grin and lit up eyes, he only saw it as such. “Are you not taking this seriously?”

“You're too cute not to tease,” Sorey chuckled, receiving a scowl in return. He let go of Mikleo's waist to swipe the knife out of his hand, leaving him in state of panic. Was fleeing a reasonable option? He doubted he could fight to get it back, not when Sorey had a larger build. But the prince didn't seem to be thinking about using it. He simply tapped the blade against his hand, still playfully grinning. “Looks like someone is defenceless,” he commented.

“Yet you're just playing with it.”

“Like I said before, I don't want to kill you.” His voice and expression finally grew serious again. “What's your opinion of me?”

“That you're a cruel person who has used his power to bring misery to those lower than you.”

“That's a fairly well thought summary. All right, what about in person?”

“Huh?” Mikleo simply said for a moment. “The same, obviously –”

“No, it wasn't. I saw what was in your eyes tonight. I saw how much you were enjoying yourself, because you were with _me.”_

“That's wrong, I...”

“You what?”

Mikleo swallowed, because he didn't know how to answer. His opinions of the man he had danced with were certainly different than the opinion he had when he came here. But they were the same man, same person he had to kill – so what was his true opinion?

Sorey clearly saw Mikleo contemplating this. “The person you _think_ you know is me is the one who was created by people who fear me. I'm not going to lie and say that I've not done bad things, because I have. But have you ever thought about whether or not I have had a choice?” There was silence for a moment, Mikleo unsure of how to respond. “I didn't realise how wrong the family's doings were until I was older. By then, I was already a puppet. I've made mistakes, but if I could erase them, I would.” He held the knife out to Mikleo, who stared at it with wide eyes. “If you want to kill me so I atone for my sins, then go ahead. But just remember that the world isn't black and white.”

Mikleo took the knife hesitantly, his mind a chaotic mess. What could he do with this information? He had promised Lailah he would remove this man from power, promised Rose that he'd help the kingdom… But what now? Now he understood Sorey more, how could he possibly kill him?

He was then startled by a sudden loud scream. He and Sorey swivelled round, gaze landing on a girl with blonde hair.

“So-Sorey, she's –”

“Don't worry, I'm fine!” Sorey called out enthusiastically, as though there wasn't a knife pointed at him. “Get the guards, if you want.”

The girl nodded, running back from when she came. Sorey turned back to Mikleo. “Sorry, that's my cousin, Alisha,” he said casually, as though Mikleo had met her in much calmer circumstances.

“What do I do now?” Mikleo questioned quietly, hands holding onto the knife beginning to tremble. “What do I...”

“You can get me out of here, away from a controlled life.”

Mikleo met his eyes, and from that gaze, he understood what Sorey went. His grip on the knife became calmer, mouth inhaling a deep breath.

“Sorry if this hurts.”

He plunged the knife into the man's side, but not deeply – the knife was stained with blood and discarded to the floor. Hissing from pain, Sorey held onto his side, but was grinning at Mikleo.

“You actually did it.”

“How else would this seem believable?” Mikleo demanded, slipping off his shoes. “I can't run in damn glass – come on, let's go!”

He grabbed onto Sorey's hand who, still clutching his side, allowed himself to dragged down the hallway and around the corner. Just as they had done so, there was another scream.

“ _Did she kill him? Did she take the body?”_

“Sorry, Alisha,” Sorey murmured. “It's the only way. I'll tell you in the future.” His then pulled Mikleo to a stop. “Wait, there's a secret way out of the palace down this way.”

“Are you sure you can run with that wound?” Mikleo asked. He was answered by Sorey running again, grinning over his shoulder.

“I've not felt this alive in years.”

It was with a smile that Mikleo was led to a room – it was small, merely used for storing supplies. He watched as Sorey felt the wooden floor, face concentrating before his eyes lit up, and he pulled up a trapdoor.

“Down this way!”

He let Mikleo slide in first, before clambering down himself, shutting the door after him. It brought them to a concrete passageway in which they had to feel their way through with their hands, the darkness obscuring their vision. But before long, there was just a small ray of moonlight escaping through a pile of rocks.

“Help me with these,” Sorey said. Mikleo nodded, reaching forward to pull away the rocks in front of them. After some effort, the two escaped out into the night, a cool breeze immediately hitting them.

“We did it,” Mikleo panted.

Sorey grinned, before tilting his head. “I think me getting stabbed in the side qualifies me to finally learn your name.”

Mikleo laughed softly. “It's Mikleo.”

“Mikleo...” Sorey said slowly, grin growing. “I like it.”

He reached for Mikleo's hand again, leading him into forestry near the castle. Mikleo didn't doubt that Sorey knew where they were going – he was the prince, after all. He was likely able to get them away from here easily.

He had been ordered to kill the prince and stop him from getting the throne. He _wouldn't_ be sitting on the throne any more, but it wasn't from the way Mikleo had expected it to be.

The poor villager who rescued the prince from his life by faking his death. It was hardly the ending he would have expected to a twisted fairy tale.

**Author's Note:**

> With this idea, I honestly could have made it a short chaptered story, but I have too many of those ideas so I just made it a oneshot. However, that lets you decide what you think happens! Do they return to his village and keep Sorey hidden, run away to another country, something else happens to them... It's all up to you! (Also known as 'I don't currently have the time to write a sequel')
> 
> I also did draw art for this in order for me to actually have an image to go by for his dress - my art accounts are skia-visuals on Tumblr and skia_visuals on Instagram. Though I'm not exactly happy with these as much as my other work, haha!
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Next week's oneshot is part five of the kinky series. *rubs hands together*


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